I Have No Mouth but I Need to Scream

The further she roamed into the strange silver beast, the more intriguing things she found. There were dens scattered about, strange palettes in each that she assumed served as bedding for the twolegs who must have operated this thing. No other creature could be capable of such wonders. The further she went, the stronger the scent of blood became. It was slightly rancid, as though a few days old. Her fur rose higher on end, the delightful thrill of nerves shooting through her veins like ice.

She heard other paw steps, lifting her head to the deck to see another female slink out of the shadows. A skull was attached to her face, and it was such a nice fit that Strega almost believed it to be her own skull exposed, though years of practicing medicine dismissed that thought. Canttina's words were strange, causing her tattered ears to fall back. Lovely? Perhaps the skull clouded her vision. Sick, small, and strange were words to describe Strega, among others. Lovely was not. Then again, anyone who wore a skull like a crown could surely not be all there.

Clearing her throat, Strega thought carefully. She had not spoken in so long, would her voice even cooperate? "Ci-ao," she croaked, her voice raspy and low, thick with the accent of her homeland, and she struggled to remember proper English terms. Her thoughts were almost exclusively in Italian, using English only for terms her people had no name for. "Mi scusi, my English quite rough, signora. I am Strega." She spoke the name as though it were the name of a fine wine, the word still having such an effect on her after all these years'in the way it alternately made her swell with pride in her accomplishmens, and agonize over what she lost in return.